painted skies
by jynxhasadragon
Summary: in which a fanfic author decides to undertake a monthly writing/art challenge and may or may not be stressed over 2019. a series of drabbles/one-shots featuring a certain trio of guardians. antics may ensue. or maybe angst, idk. rated t for safety and because i have no clue what may happen. for destcember 2018. [contains minor spoilers and lore for what's left to lose, anyways]
1. guardian and ghost

"That's insane."

Auaen snorted. "Says you," he replied, before crossing the gap with a running leap. His feet skidded across the cracked concrete rooftops of the ruins as he landed, barely managing to avoid tripping over a thick vine that had decided his path was a good place to stop and take a rest, maybe settle down and have a nap. Really, not ideal for the vine or the Hunter. Someone could get hurt, didn't the vine know that?

In any case, Auaen had made it to the other side mostly intact and only slightly jarred. He grinned cheekily to his Ghost, Tiril, who simply sighed and flew across the gap between the two buildings.

"I'm starting to regret letting you do parkour here," he said quietly. Auaen simply shrugged, before setting off towards a rather large tree growing through the rooftop of the building he stood on. He climbed, wedging his feet between indentations in the bark and, after a while, nooks and crannies between branches. His cloak caught every once in a while, but it was quickly solved with a quick tug.

He frowned slightly at a small rip at the hem that had resulted from a careless tug, making a mental note to ask Eldewhin (politely) to fix it for him. She normally helped him out with such things, but a lack of sassy remarks over his supposed clumsiness had yet to occur. Ghedwin was the clumsy one in the field. Not Auaen.

He nearly forgot to breathe when his head poked out of the top of the leafy branches, one foot wedged between two branches and the other dangling midair. He gripped two other branches with both his hands, but didn't bother to find a more comfortable position. The view was breathtaking; Venus never failed to amaze him. The sun set over the horizon, bathing the Ishtar Cliffs in a beautiful orange hue to contrast the leafy green. His hands itched to pick up his brushes, to capture that silent moment in the tree.

A quiet _click_ drew his attention to Tiril, who floated beside his hooded head silently. He smiled to himself—Tiril knew of his quiet hobbies, ones that Auaen would have died of embarrassment over if Ghedwin ever found out. Tiril nudged his shoulder after a moment, before answering his unasked question.

"I took a photo for you because I figured you'd want to keep it," he said quietly. Everything Tiril said was quiet, unless absolute need presented itself. "And you should get back to camp soon, it's getting late." Not that Auaen minded his Ghost's quiet nature—if anything, he appreciated it. Tiril understood him, a trait only Cayde and maybe Petra had in common. And he rarely saw the other two, despite being Cayde's second-in-command. He had been...busy, of late.

Auaen nodded slowly to Tiril before scanning the ground below him for a route back down to camp. Eldewhin and Ghedwin would be waiting, and Tiril was probably right. The Vex and Fallen grew more active at night, a shared trait no one really understood. It didn't matter, anyways—the knowledge was there to be used, not to be understood.

After deciding on his path, Tiril phased in and he climbed back down the tree with a small amount of reluctance and maybe a few curses as his cloak ripped again. He gave up and jumped down once he was within ten feet of the rooftop, rolling smoothly over his shoulder as he hit the bottom. He stood with the momentum of the roll and continued running down towards the Cliffs. His Fireteam would be waiting there, and he didn't want to cause any problems, anyways.

Well, not any more than he already had. He didn't go looking for trouble, okay? People just found him to be...disagreeable. Enough to get in a scuffle over. Really, some people needed to learn some manners.

 _"Like you'd have any to teach them,"_ Tiril said dryly. Auaen chortled quietly. He did have a point.

~o:O:o~

 **okay so yeah**

 **im doing this destcember thing**

 **decided last minute to do it sooo**

 **yeah, ill be posting short chapters like this (hopefully) every day**

 **ill also be posting on my instagram for the drawings/paintings ill be doing alongside it because lets face it, december is kinda stressful and these two things are pretty calming**

 **and if i don't update one day, ill just put it up the next day if its finished**

 **meaning, this might not be complete come january**

 **(holy frick its almost 2019 aaaaaaaaaaa–)**


	2. last city

***URGENT MESSAGE!!! GO SUB TO PEWDIEPIE IF YOU HAVEN'T ALREADY!!! (and like, unsub from tseries bc they suck–)**

~o:O:o~

The shop she found was small, squished between two larger and busier businesses in the neighborhood. The neon sign above it bore the same, constant word in bright orange. _Gunsmith_. Part of the sign hung askew, bumping against the door as she opened it. The door creaked loudly on unoiled hinges.

The shop itself belied its outward appearance, the pine flooring well polished and dust nearly nonexistent on the shelves, each bearing an assortment of weaponry and ammunition. She slid her fingers down the barrel of a shotgun, admiring the well-polished metal gleaming in the lamplight.

"How can I help ye, miss?"

An older voice drew her attention to an elderly man standing beside a small counter in the back, tightening screws on an odd looking device. She nodded slowly before heading towards him, glancing at a hand cannon on one of the shelves as she passed.

The old man smiled as she approached, setting down his driver and placing his spectacles on the countertop before looking up towards her. "What's yer name, missus?" he asked her.

She smiled as she examined the small contraption. Ghedwin would like to see that.

"Eldewhin," she said quietly. The old man nodded before scribbling her name down on a notepad. A nametag on his name read Mikkel DuLaskey

"And what might you be lookin' for, today, eh, Missus Eldewhin?"

Her eyes glossed over the shelves lining the back wall of the tiny shop, and she spoke almost mechanically. She had visited three shops prior to this one, looking for a certain something for a certain Hunter. "I was hoping to find a hand cannon for a friend...?" she asked.

The man—Mikkel—grinned at her before leading her to the shelf she had seen earlier, with at least eight different guns lining it and the ammo needed just behind them. "These are most of what we have available today, missus. This one," he said, hoisting a coppery cannon etched with roses, "is what my daughter calls the Rose Justice. Decent range for a 'cannon, light to handle, and quick reload. Aimin's smooth, too."

He might like that one. She nodded once again. "Maybe. Is it possible to test the out, perhaps...?" she asked.

Mikkel bobbed his head several times before scribbling down a note on his notepad. He moved on, setting the pad down ans picking up another gun, black and iridescent and etched with a raven's head.

"This one's called Raven, it's got exceptional range and explosive rounds. Not the lightest thing, though, feel that," he said, handing her the grip of the hand cannon. Her eyebrows rose slightly as she hefted it, examining the gun with her interest slightly perked. Mikkel was right, it was heavy.

"Might be heavy, but that thing's more stable than any other gun you'll find in these walls. Maybe outside, too. Recoil is nonexistent."

She nodded after a moment of consideration before placing it back on the shelf. "I'll try that one too, then," she said. She might just use it herself if she liked it. Too flashy for Auaen, though, hard as it might be to believe.

Mikkel moved on after scribbling on his notepad again, this time hoisting a silver hand cannon, a complex yet simple pattern of snakes and foxes coiling around the barrel. "This one 'ere's called Joker Mk. 45. Range is better than the Raven, there. Real light, real fast, perfectly balanced. She's a favorite of mine, if I'll be honest with ye, missus."

The Joker, huh? It sounded like something he would use. The name fit, too, if Eldewhin was completely honest. Maybe she should get that one for him.

She twirled her blue-blonde hair around her finger as she shifted her weight to her left and nodded, biting her bottom lip in consideration. "I'll try all three and tell you after, alright?"

Mikkel nodded, a grin growing across his sun-darkened wrinkled face. His wispy hair flared out slightly from behind his ears, almost reminding her of a heron. It looked like the type of hair that wouldn't ever be tamed, no matter what one would attempt. She smiled in response as he took all three guns to the counter and placed them inside a safe, locking it with a quick twist of his wrist and a quiet _click._

"I could schedule ye fer a meet at the ranges. Would tomorrow afternoon suffice?" Mikkel asked her after placing the key inside of his chest pocket.

"Yes, tomorrow would be fine," she replied. They wouldn't need to leave for another three days, so she had time to spare. He smiled once again before pulling out a blank index card and scribbling on it with his pen.

"The ranges are south of 'ere, off of Westerbury street. Here, the address is written there," he said, handing her the card and pointing out his scrawl on the thick paper. She nodded her thanks and smiled before turning to leave. She stepped onto the busy streets, smiling silently to herself. Perhaps she had found one Auaen would like.

~o:O:o~

 ***feels obligated to put an a/n here but has nothing to say***

 **thanks for reading!**

 **cya tomorrow**


	3. living without the light

**this chapter takes place before all other chapters in this fic, unless otherwise specified**

 **just to clear things up and bc i dont wanna write more red war based fics**

~o:O:o~

"Ghedwin, I need reports on sat feeds in orbit. Now."

Ghedwin frowned slightly at Ikora's message, before tapping out a few quick keys and checking the incoming feed. His jaw nearly dropped at his results.

Twenty-four satellites orbited Earth as a defensive measure, to report on any enemy advancements or any other activity detected. Twenty-four sections shone on his screen, twenty-two of which flashed a red, angry _DISCONNECTED_. One of the other two flickered lightly before turning completely black, then showing the same message.

Ghedwin quickly relays the situation to Ikora, transferring his screen to her tablet before quickly going through the recent footage of the last remaining satellite.

It's fairly quiet. The 360 view shows him the blue globe he calls his home, and the Traveler resting upon it. He sees two other satellites, 3.5c and 3.5e, both of them giving off distress signals. He pinpoints it. 3.5i is disconnected and not functioning.

Concerning.

The code at the edges of the screen show signs of another distress signal in detection. 3.5v and 3.5t are down as well. Putting two and two together, he switches back to current footage.

He catches a glimpse of a looming figure in the darkness, nearly undetectable save for the ripples of light it creates. The satellite picks it up, too. Warning messages flash across the screen, before a streak of white connects with the satellite and the screen goes black.

 _DISCONNECTED_.

He radios Ikora.

"They're all down, it's an–"

"Cabal!"

That one word is the last he hears before the room implodes around him.

~o:O:o~

Auaen isn't completely sure which had put him on alert in the first place. Maybe it was the drunk that had been not three feet away from him, knife in hand and not looking very happy about his new black eye. Maybe it had been the loud _boom_ emanating from the central plaza. Or maybe it had been the screams following afterwards. He didn't know.

Point is, he's on alert, and he's running through the desolation as fast as he can towards the Tower. There's too much rubble to ride his sparrow over, and besides, he'd probably hit a civillian or something with his luck. Cayde dials in not long after.

"Auaen, we need you here, _now._ We're under attack and are in desperate need of reinforcements."

"Already on my way, Cap."

He pauses for a moment to lift some rubble up, freeing a young woman and two small boys. He points away from the tower. They shouldn't be near the fighting.

"Go," he says. He isn't sure if this is the right thing to do. "Get out of here."

The young woman nods hastily and takes her two children by the hand before hurrying away. He can only wish the Light's blessing on her as he turns to continue on.

The entire city is under attack, some of the largest buildings and several watchposts up in flames or smoking. Cabal ships ravage the Tower, their soldiers and mercenaries deploying and dropping into the fray he can only imagine is taking place there. He hears the shots of a Golden Gun ring across the city, and the sound-bending boom of a Nova Bomb. Flames arc across the courtyard, and he can already see the battle taking place in his mind. Not a welcome thought.

He needed to be there.

He needed his fireteam.

~o:O:o~

Eldewhin shields Mikkel when the first blast comes.

Concern flits across her features as she stands, and she tugs her helmet on and pushes him out before the structure collapses. Mikkel seems to be in a daze, and a large bruise is forming on his head. He needed medical attention. She needed to find out what the heck was going on.

She comes face-to-face with a Centurion as soon as they step into the street. It looks at her, and she looks back, before it roars at her. Instinct and years of trainingover take her.

She grabs the hand cannon Mikkel held in his hand, rolling to the side as the Centurion slams the barrel of its gun into the concrete where she had been standing. Several bystanders shout in alarm, and Eldewhin shoves the old gunsmith towards them, shouting at them to get out of the city.

She shoots once, twice, three times before backing off in hopes of drawing the beast to better grounds to fight. The Centurion follows, thankfully, but so do several other Legionaries and Psions. She huffs.

After picking off several Psions, she comes to a large square and ducks behind a fountain in the middle as the Centurion takes another shot. It grazes her armor slightly, but she's not too upset. She needed to get to her Fireteam. Where was Auaen and Ghedwin?

She brushes the thought aside and jumps out of her cover, taking down three Psions and a Legionary with the hand cannon. Mikkel was a good smith, she had to admit.

Eldewhin didn't have time to dwell on the thought as her fist connected with a Legionary's skull, sending it reeling before collapsing on the ground to join its fallen brothers.

She winced when a shot tore through her leg, white hot and burning. Something warm dripped down her grey skin, but she paid it no heed. A shotgun to the face took down the Centurion. She needed to get to the tower.

A small family huddled in the rubble, in hopes of avoiding the fight. She dug them out and directed them out of the city before turning towards the Tower. She needed her fireteam. She hoped she had made the right choice.

~o:O:o~

He felt it when it was taken.

The Light—it had vanished.

Ripped away.

He tried to summon that fire, but it never came.

And down at the base of the Tower, he felt that crackling energy seep out of him. His staff vanished.

His fingers felt cold.

He wanted to shout in alarm, but the shout never came.

She felt it too, that sudden jerking at her heart as something left a hole there, where something warm had once resided. That shield, that silent protection, was gone.

She felt empty without it.

They all did.

~o:O:o~

 **okay, ik today was technically supposed to be post-siege but**

 **i really wanted to write this**

 **so**

 **youre welcome ig**

 **now i need to draw the thing**

 **cya tomorrow**


	4. little joys

**a/n: keep in mind these chapters are not chronological in any way, shape or form so**

 **yeah**

 **also happy birthday haytham kenway even tho youre an assassins creed character and this is a destiny fic**

 **requiescat in pace**

~o:O:o~

Ghedwin bolted upright in his bed, his moderator whirring loudly as he panted quietly. He pressed his hand to his foreplate. A dull ache throbbed in his head, but he didn't bother waking Riselle to Heal him. A residue of his past life, he was sure. A creature—he believed himself to be no more than that—a creature of springs and pistons should feel no pain. Yet he did. He had grown used to it, now, accepting it for what it was at face-value.

Waking up at ungoldly hours had turned into a norm, now, especially after he started having the dreams. The Dream, more like. They were all the same, he knew that much. But _what_ they were—and what he saw in them—that was something he didn't know. And it bothered him.

Rather, the not-knowing-what-unsettled-him-so-much bothered him.

He remembered how it always began—the vast ocean of golden grass, the ripples in the wind, the deathly silence that seemed so out of place—but under the Traveler's Light, he could not remember any more than that.

And it was torturous.

Grumbling silently, he rested his head against his pillow in an attempt to find sleep once more. And, as per usual, sleep did not come. Riselle still slept soundly next to him on the pillow. He made no move to disturb her.

Auaen often called him overprotective of his Ghost, telling him to, quote, "let loose and live a little", which, in truth, Ghedwin could understand. To a fault. What was the point of living if you died from that very thing? He didn't understand. He _wanted_ to understand. But he didn't. And that, more than anything else, bothered him in ways unimaginable.

When sleep did not come, Ghedwin instead opted to swing his legs over the side of his bed. He winced when his joints creaked with the movement. He would need to oil them again. He stood with a level of difficulty—it grew harder with each passing day, but he wouldn't ever let anyone know—before sighing and heading into the small kitchen he shared with his fireteam members.

It was 2:37 AM, if the clock on the microwave was to be trusted. He set a pot of water to boil in an old kettle before planting himself on a stool and burying his face in his arms. Auaen had broken their small coffee machine again, and Ghedwin was in no mood to trek through the December snow to the dining hall only to undoubtedly wait in line for mediocre coffee. Why anyone would want coffee at 2:37 AM was beyond him.

Then again, he was doing exactly that.

There was a mug of black coffee in front of him, soon enough, and he mixed in a fair amount of cream and sugar before drinking silently and sorting through jumbled thoughts. Coffee was good. Coffee was better than—than whatever The Dream had been about. Whatever it is about.

Maybe it _was_ important. He didn't know. His head throbbed. Why didn't the exo have a "pain off" switch somewhere? That alone would solve so many of his problems.

It would also create many problems, once he pondered on it. Perhaps he could live with it. Why did his head hurt? He didn't know, and he didn't want to think about it. Thinking hurt. He sipped his coffee again. Coffee was good.

His mind wandered as he stared into the drink, not really thinking on anything at all. Flashes of memories came and went—bullets and shouting and more bullets and fire and death—but he didn't dwell on them. He didn't suppress them, though.

He still had nightmares of that day, when he didn't have The Dream. Fire, and shouting, and the explosion, and heat and pain and death—he didn't want it. The Red Legion were disappearing, now, the last of their numbers being driven from Earth at an alarming rate. And their Dominus was dead.

Ghedwin drowned himself in coffee.

Coffee didn't have problems like he did.

Coffee didn't judge.

Coffee was good.

~o:O:o~

 **okay so yeah its short**

 **i wrote it kinda off the top of my head, which ig is sort of the point**

 **but yeah**

 **heres ghedwin for ya**

 **hes my baby**

 **anyways**

 **thx fo reasding ig, cya tomorrow**


	5. black and white

**quick a/n here, dndestiny recently released their players guidebook on their webpage, go check it out**

i **f you dont know who they are, theyre a group of ppl who are making a playable dnd-esque tabletop rpg based on destiny and its amazing**

~o:O:o~

Black and white.

Black and white.

Black and white.

Black blood on his hands. A white cloth over his body.

Black sins painting his past. White snow and white skies and white paint covering them all up.

Black lies on white lips.

Black words on a white canvas.

Black, cold, empty.

White, happy, alive.

A little white lie wouldn't hurt, would it?

Black and white.

Black and white.

Black and white.

Things were never so simple.

He never should have told him.

He might still be alive if he hadn't.

It was all his fault.

Black, black, black.

 _He_ had been white.

 _She_ had been white.

He was black.

Black only darkened. He never should have accepted.

White always lightened, but once white touched black it never truly was the same.

Black and white.

Black and white.

Black and white.

White, white, white.

They didn't need him.

He should have stayed behind. He should have warned him. He should have been there, he should have helped him, he should have told him he should have been with him he should have _listened_ –

He didn't deserve to be here. With them. He– he had failed them. Let his closest friend _die_ , alone in that prison, surrounded by those _filthy_ creatures–

He had no right.

Black and white.

Black and white.

Black and white.

The world had always been black and white and grey.

Now–

Black and white.

Black and white.

Black and white.

Black, black, black...

~o:O:o~

He shifted the gun back and forth unconsciously, losing himself in thought.

Black and white.

The aptly named Joker looked almost untouched in his calloused hands, defiant of what its owner had done with it.

It disgusted him.

The slaughter, the killing, the war–

Black blood and white radiolaria.

He never wanted to kill again.

Never, never, never.

And they say the universe isn't so black and white.

Well, they were wrong.

They were all wrong.

Killing was bad—black, if you will. Sparing was good—the figurative white.

Was it, though?

Justice or mercy?

Black or white?

Perhaps both were white.

He sighed quietly before emptying the gun of any remaining bullets. Only one came out. Silver. Silver like the gun. Eldewhin had given it to him after the Red War had ended. He had been a bumbling idiot in response. Silver.

No.

Black and white, black and white, black and white.

He thought about telling her the truth, about everything he'd ever lied about.

No.

He'd been hiding himself for far longer than he had ever known Ghedwin and Eldewhin. Longer than his being a Guardian, even. He could manage for a few more months. That was all he needed.

No more killing.

Black and white.

Black and white.

Black and white.

He made his decision.

They say the number of murderers stayed the same if you murdered a murderer. That is, unless you killed multiple.

He planned to have thirteen heads in sacks before he returned. And if Auaen died in the process, so be it.

~o:O:o~

 **okay so yeah**

 **auaen is actually kind of dark and might have problems**

 **ig dark will be a theme from here on out?**

 **and yeah, shorter chapter today**

 **sorry**


	6. in the vanguard

**this ones late, ik**

 **sorry abt that**

 **also vv minor spoilers for my other fic in this chapter, _what's left to lose, anyways_**

 **just a warning**

~o:O:o~

Temporary duty.

That was what Commander Zavala had told him.

Temporary duty his ass, he didn't ever want to be in the Vanguard again.

And yeah, Auaen understold, sort of. They needed a new Hunter Vanguard and that responsibility kind of fell on _him_ because he was Cayde's second-in-command. His First Scout, if you wanted to be formal.

But he wasn't feeling formal today, and the uniform really was not helping.

He sat silently on his bed, rubbing the fabric of his ceremonial cloak between his fingers. Pale grey, almost white, with a Hunter Blue trim. On any other day, in any other situation, he would have shrugged off his duties in the Tower and gone scouting instead. He was First Scout, after all. And besides, he did get the paperwork done eventually. Before they were due.

Papers had to ferment in a desk for a few days before they could be properly used. Everyone knew that.

But this time around, he knew better than to skip the Bonding.

Cayde would have wanted it.

A Bonding was a spell, typically woven by Warlocks, which was used on groups of three or more to form a Fireteam. It gave them several benefits—the use of minor telepathy, for instance, or the general sense of direction in terms of where the other members of the Fireteam were located—and was, as such, used whenever possible. They did not use them all the time, however—Bondings were released after a mission was completed, to prevent mental strain and, quote, 'dissociative identity disorder' from having two plus people more-or-less stuck in your head for long stretches of times. Ironically, though, fireteams tended to be set due to ease in accepting the bond between familiar persons. Which was why he was stuck with Ghedwin and Eldewhin. Or had been.

The pain and anger over Cayde's unexpected death had faded, somewhat—faded into a slow simmer and placed on the backburner for the time being. It wouldn't ever go away, no. He knew that much. His...personal battles had ensured that.

Eldewhin poked her head inside his room, her light blue hair hanging straight and perfect over her ears. She has tied up her bangs, today—the look gave her a Queen of the Reef-esque appearance. Not that he minded.

She crossed the room silently after seeing he was dressed before sitting down beside him. She was dressed ceremoniously, too—a bitter reminder of what was to come in a fee short hours.

She gave his hand a quick squeeze before taking his cloak from him in silence. He was grateful for that.

"You alright?" she asked as she draped it over his shoulders. He didn't answer.

She frowned as she buckled the cloak down to his shoulders. No sass from her today, it seemed. He met her eyes silently before looking down and shrugging, almost unnoticable to even himself. Sighing, Eldewhin turned his face to look at her. He took her hand. It was cold.

"Just a bit nervous is all," he mumbled. She nodded and pressed a kiss to his temple.

"You'll be alright," she said simply. He hummed quietly in response, to which she uttered another sigh.

"Look, it's just until they find another Vanguard, alright? You didn't take the Dare—it won't be forever."

"They're giving me his cloak, Elde."

She paused.

"I don't want it," he finished. "I don't think I deserve it."

"You do," she said quietly, before giving his hand another squeeze. "You do, even if you don't believe it."

Auaen scoffed in response, before standing from the bed after gathering his sidearm and hand cannon. Eldewhin frowned again and sighed.

"Woman, I can't please you all the time."

She stood from the mattress and poked him rather forcefully in the chest. "Do you think I don't know that? Because you, my kind sir, are sorely mistaken."

"Are you two finished yet? We need to leave right about now."

Eldewhin jumped back in startlement, much to Auaen's amusement, before both turned to face a rather annoyed Ghedwin in the doorway. Auaen waved him off.

"We'll meet you in the courtyard, alright?"

Ghedwin nodded after an annoyed sigh and turned to leave. Eldewhin made to follow, but Auaen grabbed her arm before she made two steps. He planted a kiss on her painted cheek before letting her off again.

"Can we talk after? I...I don't know. Can we?"

She nodded after a moment, before squeezing his hand for the third time and leaving him alone in the room. He sighed.

Cayde would have wanted this.

And Percy—Percy had gone after the Barons.

Auaen had a duty to fulfill, for now.

Maybe he could help Percy when he was finished.

~o:O:o~

 **so apparently auaen/elde is a thing now**

 **its been forever since i wrote crap like this**

 **excluding like, that last chapter of wltla**

 **(i promise, im working on the next one its gonna be like 8k i think but yeah)**

 **(prepare for more shay and maybe like his entire backstory so)**

 **anyways, thx for reading ig**

 **i will hopefully see you later today with what will most likely be another romance chapter**

 **cya**


	7. say my name

**late upload again omg**

 **hi**

 **i need to manage my time better, good lord**

~o:O:o~

It was cold.

It was really, really cold, but it was also December and snowing and he was with Eldewhin, so.

The sky was nice out, anyways.

Dark, inky black disturbed by wisps of clouds reflecting off the city lights. The brightest of stars poking out in the sky, some of which he had visited personally. It was humbling, in truth. The sight reminded him of how miniscule he was, how petty their war against the Darkness truly was on the grand scale of things.

As far as they knew, the Darkness and the Traveler were beings of that very galaxy—what lay beyond, in the arms of other galaxies entirely?

Eldewhin shifted under his arm and shivered slightly, pulling his attention back to the Awoken woman. He pulled her closer, wrapping his pale grey cloak tighter around the two of them. She made no move to stop him. A welcome sign, that.

She mumbled something into his chest, but it didn't quite reach his ears. They had had a somewhat celebratory meal of spicy ramen at what had been Cayde's favorite shop—it had brought up memories for the both of them, as many good as were bittersweet—before sitting where they were now and talking for long hours. Just for the sake of talking. Auaen didn't have the heart to tell her the truth—of how he had been feeling lately, of the urges he gets sometimes, of those quiet moments alone when no one else is home and he's just absolutely _broken_ —it's too much, in his opinion. Besides, Eldewhin had enough to worry about.

She tugged his hair with a frown when he didn't respond to her mumbles, rather rudely snapping him out of his reverie. He winced and glanced down at her, clearly confused at her attitude.

"Did you hear me?" she asked, a touch of annoyance worming its way into her voice.

He paused for a moment before shaking his head slowly in response. "...No, I'm afraid not."

She frowned. "I asked if you're alright. You're awfully quiet tonight."

He blinked and stared at her for a few moments, before shrugging and pulling her closer. She was warm, to be completely honest.

"...I'm alright," he said quietly after a few more moments.

She huffed and fingered his ear. "Right, I believe you."

He pulled her blue fingers away from his earlobe with a sigh, before lying down against the tiled ground and gazing straight up towards the stars.

"Auaen?"

He glanced down at the Titaness silently. "You know," he began.

She eyed him curiously, with a slight air of confusion. "Hm?"

"You're the only person who ever says my name right," he said with a quiet chuckle. Best steer the conversation away from his well-being.

"What do you mean by that?" she asked. He squeezed her hand.

"I mean, everyone else says it wrong," he noted. "I've gotten Oh-wain, or Oh-ehn, or Au-en, or Au-ay-ehn. You're the only one who says it right."

She smiled in the dark, something he was almost grateful to be close eough to witness.

"No one else says Au-ain?" she asked with a quiet chuckle.

He shrugged. "Apparently not."

"And I thought people got _my_ name wrong often," she noted dryly. He flicked her ear playfully.

"How could anyone get your name _wrong?_ Inconcievable."

"You'd be surprised, I've gotten Eld-whin and El-da-whin. I suppose it isn't as bad as yours. Not that it's a bad name, I like it."

"Eldewhin," he mused. She smiled against his chest.

"Eldewhin. El-de-whin. Royal flower?" he asked. She nodded.

He ran his fingers through her hair. Fitting, really. "Did you choose it, or...?"

Shs looked at him with mild perplexity. "No, I was born with it."

"So you remember? Like, your past?" He himself was one of only a handful, at best. Even then, he only remembered snippets, such as his name and where he had hailed from. Palamon, where the renegade Shin Malphur had been raised.

She huffed. "Of course I do. I never died, remember?"

Oh.

He shrugged and looked down at the short woman tangled in his cloak before shaking his head. "No," he said. "I didn't know that."

He shifted slightly, enough to face her as they spoke.

It was getting late; late enough for it to nearly be considered morning, Eldewhin later pointed out. Which wasn't really a problem for either of them. He wanted to talk, anyways. She was nice company.

~o:O:o~

 **so i started this really late last night bc i spent like, three hours drawing**

 **its two thirty on the folloeing day and ive finally gotten this done**

 **and yeah, its not my best but im tired and have another one i want to write for day 8**

 **i might skip it though**

 **i mean, 'legacy of the golden age'? idk what the h*ck to do for that**

 **so**

 **yeah i think ill skip**

 **cya**


	8. let it snow

**okay so yeah i disappeared for a while**

 **sorry**

 **been busy with recitals and the next chapter** **of wltla**

 **im like, halfway done btw**

 **but yeah**

 **so**

 **definitely not gonna update every day, srry abt that**

 **also uhh minor sppilers for wltla here, in terms of a certain hunter and a warlock i will most definitely be introducing soon (or mentioning, at least)**

 **basically just**

 **same universe as my other fic, so expect references to it and possible (minor) spoilers**

 **moving on**

~o:O:o~

It had been several weeks, now.

Close to a month, at that.

The City would be beginning the Dawning celebrations, soon.

She pulled her hood down further, swaddling herself in her cloak as she trekked on through the frozen waste. Snow whirled around her, biting at her exposed cheeks and ears. She could not feel her hands any longer.

There was no shelter in sight, as far as she could see. Then again, visibility was limited to a few meager feet with the sudden blizzard. She clutched her rifle like a lifeline.

Did she regret leaving the City behind?

No.

Did she wish she were in a streetside bar some nights, goading some over-confident and drunken Guardian on with her jabs?

Yes.

Had she done the right thing?

She hoped so.

All of it—the sacrifice, the pain, the death—all of it would have been for naught if she went back now.

She trekked on, through the snow clinging to her legs and scattered throughout her hair, through ice cracking underneath the soles of her boots and melted snow freezing against her neck.

She would not turn back now.

The blizzard battered on.

 _Let it snow,_ she though dryly, but there was nothing humorous of her situation.

If her numbers were to be trusted, and if her tracker was trustworthy, the abandoned bunker should still be another two days off by foot. There, she could take the ship Haytham and Connor had left for her to Old Chicago and meet up with them there. They, in the meantime, were somewhere west. They hadn't told her where they were off to, only that they needed to meet someone important.

Why did they have to leave now, of all times?

Her mood soured slightly at the thought.

Her sparrow had broken two days prior—somewhat frozen fingers and a press for time had held her back from repairing it. She needed to be in the Americas before they began.

The blizzard battered on.

She spotted something not far from her—a small copse of trees, faded and indistinct but no more than fifteen feet away from where she stood. She turned to look in the direction she had come. Already, her tracks were nearly buried in the constant snowfall.

With no other cover in sight, she made way for the trees. It would be slightly warmer there, but there was the danger of being buried under snow falling from branches. She would need to dig a small trench again that night. Perhaps she would be able to find enough dry wood and needles to light a small fire. Tea would be a welcome comfort, then.

Her lips pressed into a thin line as she dunked under the low hanging branches. She needed to hurry. No fire tonight—she didn't have the time, and there was the risk of being seen by others. She almost laughed at that—it would have been nothing short of Traveler's miracle should _that_ ever occur. She shook the thought away as she dug her frozen fingers into the snow.

She had a mission, and she would complete it.

The blizzard battered on.

She would push through.

~o:O:o~

 **and yeah, this isnt a character you guys know**

 **she'll be appearing soon :))**

 **(and yeah its hella short but)**

 **anyways**

 **yeah, its the kenways**

 **theyre up to something**

 **cya tomorrow maybe**


	9. chosen undead

**this was technically yesterday's, to which i say**

 **screw you, i can do what i want**

 **or not, i doubt id actually say that**

 **(the power went out btw)**

 **(and ig its kind of a thing now to reference my other fic???)**

 **(this explains an itty bitty part in wltla concerning guardians and how they are chosen that i doubt i would had ever fit into that massive fic)**

 **(and yeah, if you haven't figured it out already its an assassin's creed/destiny crossover in terms of lore)**

 **(also spoiler alert)**

 **(duh)**

 **(enjoy)**

~o:O:o~

Guardians. Her chosen warriors, wielders of starlight. Most were undead, creatures brought back to the realm of the living using this new power she had since gained.

Why had the Eliksni never had Guardians of their own? Why had the Ammonites or the Harmony never had any of the Traveler's Chosen?

A simple answer.

None had the DNA needed to perform such wonders upon. Man, however. That was a different story. Since her arrival, the creation of the Exo and the birth of the Awoken had brought forward a...wider variety of those who were inborn with the triple-helix.

Of course, not all with the DNA were Chosen—all humans had some form of the Isu within them, but some had larger concentrations of the triple-helix structure in their biological programming than others. If all were to be raised, most of humanity would be crowned Guardian and her carefully crafted hierarchy would fall into bloody shambles. That, she would work to avoid. Besides, even the former Queen herself did not have enough power to create so many Ghosts.

Of course, the Exo had proven to be a tad difficult to sort out—the Ghost needed to find some form of correlation between the living machine and its past biological form. But, of course, such thing were possible. Isu DNA affected the mind as well as the body, in emotional and philosophical ways alike. Why else would the larger portion of the hybrids be either Assassin or Templar? Any being left to assume it was simply because of marriageable relationships would need to be shown the grander scale of things.

Then again, the dispute between the two factions had always been petty. Puny and insignificant against the fabric of the universes.

She traced the veins of the leaf in her hand, observing the world through crystalline eyes. The Red Legion supposedly held her bound. She bided her time. Wait for the right moment to strike, then strike with power. She would humiliate their Dominus, when he thought he had gained victory. In the meantime, she had work to do. But for now, she waited.

After all, Juno had always been a patient woman.

~o:O:o~

 **ok yeah massive spoiler right there in the last line**

 **if you havent figured it out for some crazy reason, basically all guardians are hybrids of human/isu blood**

 **which means that most assassins and templars along with all the sages will be Raised (except standish bc he sucked**

 **not as a character, but.**

 **i mean, theyre on a shortage of ghosts, i can justify it**

 **and yeah juno is in the traveler**

 **(and the queen she mentioned isnt mara sov)**

 **(or savathûn, for that matter)**

 **(have fun :))**


	10. past days

**if you havent noticed by now i have slowed down in updates for this**

 **lack of inspiration, ig**

 **but im not done yet no worries**

 **and yeah ik this prompt was days ago but**

 **yeah**

~o:O:o~

He woke up.

As usual, a dull ache throbbed in his head. His moderator was whirring loudly in his audio mic, but there wasn't anything he could do to silence it.

Something was different about his dream this time, though.

Ghedwin remembered his dream, and it terrified him.

He clenched and unclenched his fist, remembering with near-perfect clarity the feeling of his fingers wrapped around the woman's throat. He remembered the blade in his hand that had been imbedded inside the soldier's chest. The blood coating his mods and limbs like paint, Eliksni and human alike. The familiar golden field, iron-soaked and crimson. The mountain in the distance.

The man who had struck that final, killing blow on him. Auaen.

He was afraid. Afraid of himself. Had he done those things?

No, Auaen still lived. He hadn't killed Auaen, had he? Or had Auaen killed him...?

Ghedwin nearly scoffed. No, of course not. It was a dream, nothing more. Khezie had warned him of the dreams, not long after he began having them. She had called them "dreams" nonetheless, and there was no reason any of them should have any basis on reality. That is, if one excluded the single, annoying fact that all the faces seen in one's dreams were the faces of those they had seen in life. Did such rules bind an exo?

An interesting question. He would need to research it.

As per usual, he threw his legs over the side of his bed, wincing at the growing difficulty. Ikora had been right—he needed to stop with the Vex research. Its impact on him was too heavy a cost.

Ghedwin sat in silence for a time after, before standing up on shaky legs and making his way into the small kitchen. Coffee again, to sort out his thoughts.

The first that came to mind was a question: who were those people he had seen in his dream? Had he seen them in his other dreams? What was that structure in the distance? Why had Auaen been the one who had killed him?

He didn't know the answer to the first, but he was leaning towards a _yes._ Perhaps in his past days, before he had become a Guardian. Perhaps even further, before he was even Exo.

The second he could not answer, not with his limited knowledge of the world. It bothered him.

The third question was something he was able to answer with surprising ease. A name he didn't know, or perhaps one buried deep in his memory logs. The Deep Stone Crypt. His knowing such a name only caused more to surface in his mind. How had he known of it? What was its significance?

He wasn't sure he wanted to know that.

Ghedwin sighed and stood from the rickety stool he had been sitting on before picking up his mug and stepping outside. He sipped his drink quietly, watching the thickly clouded sky in silence. Movement really was a problem, now. Perhaps he would finally speak to the head medic instead of sucking it up and dealing with it like he had for the past—oh, five years. Altaïr had often reprimanded him with that silent knowing glare of his when he visited. He knew Ghedwin was having problems, even if they only saw each other when Auaen had somehow contracted yet another injury Tiril couldn't Heal. Sometimes, Ghedwin wished Altaïr would voice his concerns—concerns! annoyances, more like—instead of flashing that piercing glare in his direction every time they met. It was unsettling.

A light rain began to tickle his forearms, but Ghedwin didn't bother to head back inside. Instead, he downed the rest of his coffee and propped himself against the railing along the edge of the Tower. Several leafy plants poked at him in less-than-ideal spots, all of which he recognized. Fork's Tongue, for instance, a red flowering shrub native to Venus and often used as a somewhat harmless sedative in small doses. Dusklight, a small martian tree whose sap doubled as a deadly poison. Mintburn, a blue weed found primarily in Old Alaska and renowned for its potent paralysis and hallucination-inducing effects. Auaen had several more plants thriving in the small courtyard here, most—if not all—used as or as an ingrediant in some form of poison. He had many more in his bedroom, and more still in his makeshift greenhouse. Auaen sometimes joked of being a botanist in his past life. Ghedwin didn't think it to be unlikely.

He wondered, some days, of who he was before. Such a day—or night, he supposed—was now. Eldewhin had a few theories of her own. A scientist, perhaps. Anthropology was a favorite theory of hers in that field. Auaen thought a drill sergeant, although he admitted it to only be in jest. A soldier, a physicist, a mechanic, a businessman. All possible theories of his past. Eldewhin had provided most on her own. She knew who she had been—a cadet in training to become one of the Queen's Corsairs—and Auaen had a general idea of who he had been, botanist jokes aside. He wouldn't say, but it was clear he knew.

The rain drummed harder now. Louder, too. Ghedwin looked up into the sky and embraced it. Did it really matter who he had been in the past? The memory of the Dream flashed through his mind, quick and decieving. He faltered. Yes, yes it did. He had known those people, he was sure now.

He didn't remember, though. Could one forget a memory one had never experienced?

Lightning flashed several miles away. Thunder rolled in the distance, echoed and quiet as if to reprimand him. He shook his head—he would forget, tonight. He would move on, regardless of whatever his Dream told him.

~o:O:o~

 **so this is a thing**


End file.
